


The Second Mr. McCoy

by slashy (slashmyheartandhopetoporn)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Sex Worker AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7583218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmyheartandhopetoporn/pseuds/slashy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Pavel, a young escort, is swept off his feet by the handsome and wealthy Starfleet medical officer, Leonard McCoy, he thinks his life has taken a turn for the better. But ghosts from Leonard's past--particularly the world-shattering death of his beloved first husband, famous Starfleet captain James T. Kirk--seem determined to keep the doctor and his young groom from their happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mashup with one of my favorite books/films. I'm curious to see if folks can figure out which without me telling them, though ;)
> 
> Tbh, I'm not sure how this is going to go over, so depending on response it may or may not be continued and/or updated. At least, not in a timely fashion.

Being an escort, Pavel reflected, did have its benefits, of which travelling was certainly one. That said, not having the ability to dictate where one traveled wasn’t ideal. Looking out over the lights of Risa, Pavel felt acutely this was one local he’d rather not have wasted time seeing.

“Pavel!”

Pavel turned around to face the Admiral. “Yes, Alex,” he replied with a soft smile.

“Come away from the balcony and have a seat with me.”

Pavel did as he was told, sidling up to the Admiral with familiar ease, one arm slotting around the older man’s stomach. “I was enjoying the view.”

Admiral Marcus snorted. “Don’t lie to me. You hate it here, I know.”

He set a heavy hand on Pavel’s lower back, then led him to a plush settee located in one of the communal spaces of the upscale hotel they had been staying in. The pair took a seat, Pavel remaining elegantly draped over the Admiral. Let it not be said that he was not good at his job.

Admiral Marcus ordered them each a coffee and then settled himself into the cushions. “You know, it’s been a waste coming here.”

Pavel looked up at the Admiral in surprise--he had not expected to hear his private thoughts echoed aloud. “Why do you say that?”

The Admiral huffed. “Well, there hasn’t been a single well-known person here for our entire stay. That’s what I get for coming out of season.”

Pavel let his hand fall the slightest bit lower on Admiral Marcus’ stomach. “Then I will have to try harder to make this trip worthwhile.”

Admiral Marcus smiled and lowered his head to kiss Pavel when something just past Pavel’s shoulder caught his eye.

“Doctor Leonard McCoy?” the Admiral said.

Pavel turned to see the man who had caught Admiral Marcus’ attention. He was some years older than Pavel, yet still some years younger than the Admiral, too. He wore a beautiful pinstriped suit, the top few buttons of his white dress shirt undone, and the barest hint of stubble peppered his jaw.

“Admiral Marcus,” he said, with noticeably less enthusiasm. His voice carried the lilt of some faint terran accent. The Admiral did not seem to notice his lack of excitement.

Admiral Marcus stood from the settee, Pavel falling aside a little roughly, and extended a hand. “Just when I was starting to despair of finding any old friends here on Risa.”

Doctor McCoy eyed the proffered hand a moment before taking the necessary steps to bridge the gap between him and the Admiral, and accepting the friendly shake.

“Please, join me. Have a seat, we’ll get you some coffee,” the Admiral continued, smiling broadly, then he turned to Pavel. “Doctor McCoy’s having coffee with me--go find the waiter and put in another order.” It was not a request. Pavel made to stand when the Doctor interrupted.

“I beg to differ,” he said with a smile that looked strained. “You’ll both be having coffee with me.” Then he caught a passing waiter, asked for a cup, and took a seat in the chair sat opposite the settee.

Admiral Marcus took his seat as well, and for a moment Pavel was unsure of how he should display himself. Admiral Marcus had never shied away from their intimacy in public, but he had a tendency to simply pretend Pavel wasn’t present when they were around men the Admiral wanted to impress. So Pavel sat rigidly beside him, his hands folded politely in his lap.

“So, how long’s it been?” the Admiral asked.

Doctor McCoy shot Pavel a sidelong glance, clearly curious. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said flatly, turning to look once more at Admiral Marcus. “It’s been a few years.”

“And what are you doing on Risa? Little gambling maybe? Or enjoying yourself in other ways perhaps.” And here the Admiral placed a possessive arm around Pavel’s shoulders, pulling him into him.

If Doctor McCoy was surprised by the implication, he betrayed nothing. “I’m afraid those amusements quit working for me a long time ago,” he said, failing to clarify which amusements he was referring to.

Either way, the Admiral was oblivious. He laughed, moving his hand to the back of Pavel’s neck. “I well understand that,” he said. “Besides, if I had an estate like yours, I’d hardly ever feel the need for vacations abroad. Not even Risa compares, I’m sure.”

Doctor McCoy looked once more at Pavel. He folded his arms and leant back in his seat. “And you?” he said, holding Pavel’s gaze. “You have any thoughts on Risa?”

“Oh,” Pavel said, surprised. “Well.”

“Well, what?”

Pavel swallowed and looked sideways to the Admiral. Admiral Marcus looked less than pleased that Pavel was being asked to participate, but he did nothing to stop him answering. Pavel looked back at the Doctor. “I suppose, if I’m being honest, I think it’s very artificial.”

Admiral Marcus rolled his eyes. “He’s spoiled, Doctor McCoy, that’s his problem. I’ve treated him too well.” He looked at Pavel in disapproval. “He doesn’t appreciate that most people would give their eyes to see Risa.”

Doctor McCoy’s patience with the Admiral seemed to wane. “Wouldn’t that entirely defeat the purpose?” The smile on his face was only just this side of unpleasant.

After an awkward pause, the Admiral breezed on as if Doctor McCoy had said nothing at all out of turn. “Listen, I’m starting to think our coffee’s never arriving--the help here’s proving useless. Why you don’t you come up to my suite for a drink instead.” His hand found its way back on Pavel’s shoulder. “Pavel here can play hostess. I presume your valet’s already unpacked for you?”

All of Doctor McCoy’s forced friendliness, little of it as there had been, disappeared. “I don’t have one. Would you like to unpack for me instead?”

The insult was undeniable. Pavel felt his lips part in shock at the rudeness. Doctor McCoy eyed him once more with a furrowed brow.

Beside him, the Admiral struggled to find a way to deny the slight. “I hardly think,” he started, trailing off. He looked to Pavel. “But if you do need assistance, surely Pavel could help. Make him do something useful for once during this trip.” He looked back at the Doctor. “He’s capable enough when he applies himself.”

Doctor McCoy frowned, and Pavel felt his face flush.

“A charming suggestion,” the Doctor replied, standing from his chair. “How very generous of you to offer. That said, I’m going to decline and take my leave. It was lovely to see you.” Though his last words were surely meant for the Admiral, Doctor McCoy’s eyes fixed themselves on Pavel instead.

Before either could respond, Doctor McCoy had hurried away, leaving confused silence in his wake.

After a moment, Admiral Marcus relaxed back against the settee and pulled Pavel to him once more, the pretense gone. “What do you make of that?” the Admiral asked.

Pavel stayed silent.

“I suppose we should head up, too,” the Admiral said, and the pair stood and made for the elevators. “By the way,” Admiral Marcus continued, voice low so as not to be overheard. “I’m not saying this to be cruel, but don’t think I didn’t notice that you were a little too forward with Doctor McCoy. Trying to enter the conversation got you nothing but embarrassment for all involved parties.”

Pavel ducked his head and averted his eyes. This was his least favorite part of working for the Admiral.

Seeing Pavel’s distresses, Admiral Marcus drew him in for a kiss, his hands snaking down to cup Pavel’s backside. “Come on,” he said as the elevator doors opened. “Don’t sulk.” He pushed Pavel into the elevator, pressing him against the back wall. “You’re still learning,” he whispered against his neck.

“Alex,” Pavel said, breathless. “Someone must push the button for our floor.”

The Admiral chuckled and took a step back to press the appropriate button. Then he said, “I have to say--I got the sense the good Doctor’s still not over his husband’s death.” Pavel frowned. Grief would certainly explain some of the Doctor’s behavior.

Again, Admiral Marcus crowded against him, one hand trailing slowly down towards the front of his trousers. “James T. Kirk was a good kid.

“They say Doctor McCoy absolutely adored him.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote another chapter so, eh, go ahead and have it.

The next morning, Pavel woke with a tender throat and the fog of shame which had caught him the night before far from lifted. The roughness of his throat he could attribute to the Admiral; his shame he could attribute only to himself.

It had been years since Pavel had felt anything but a pragmatic indifference for his line of work. It paid well, after all, and came with a variety of perks. Certainly he would have preferred a job in mathematics, but schooling was expensive, even with his exceptional intellectual talents, so had long been out of the question. The admission to Starfleet as a teenager had momentarily seemed like the answer, but the unexpected death of his parents had closed that door, too. With no money, no family, and the grief of his parents’ loss overwhelming all other elements of his life, Pavel had done the best he could to keep himself fed and clothed through odd jobs, petty theft, and pure ingenuity until he’d come of legal age. Then he’d turned to sex work.

While Doctor McCoy may not have intended for Pavel to feel embarrassed over his livelihood, it had happened all the same. The Admiral was a fool and a bully. It was clear the Doctor did not suffer either lightly, and while Pavel wanted to grow to be such a man himself, he had ended up bending over for fools and bullies alike instead. He may have been paid an arm and a leg to do so, but that only went so far some days.

“Finally up?” the Admiral asked as he came into the bedroom.

“Did I oversleep?” Pavel asked, groggy.

“Only a little. I wear you out that much?”

Pavel feigned satisfaction and stretched languorously. “So it would seem,” he said with a happy smile. Then he noticed the Admiral was dressed, and frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Conference call with Yorktown. They’ve set up a room for me downstairs.”

“But we are on vacation.” The trick, Pavel knew, was to pout without truly looking like that’s what you were doing. It lent an air of sincerity if the body language could be mastered. Pavel had mastered it very early on.

Admiral Marcus leaned over the bed to kiss the shell of Pavel’s ear. “I should be back this afternoon,” he whispered. Then he walked out of the bedroom and exited the suite altogether. The moment he was gone, Pavel let the facade drop. He pulled the covers up to his chin and sighed heavily into the down. He had been allotted an unexpected reprieve: this was the first morning since his arrival two weeks ago that he had not been expected to perform.

After dressing, Pavel was gathering his mathematics notebook and some pens when a curt knock came at the door. Upon answering, Pavel was met with a bellhop carrying a small note card. He presented it to Pavel with a wordless bow, and after Pavel took it from him and turned to dig some tip money out of the wallet he had sat on the counter, the bellhop promptly disappeared. Pavel frowned, but shut the door. He turned his attention to the card, which bore a short message in a neat and unfamiliar script--not from the Admiral then. It read:

_Forgive me. I was very rude last night._

There was no signature, no initials. Just that brief handful of words. But it was enough, of course, for Pavel to know who had sent it. Placing the note in his back pocket, he grabbed his wallet and his suite key and made his way down to the dining room, thoughts of Doctor McCoy keeping him company as he walked.

It was nearing ten o’clock, and the room was buzzing with activity. Without a respected Starfleet admiral at his side, no one paid Pavel any mind, and when he took his seat at their usual table he was unbothered that the staff did not immediately flock to him. Which is of course why he had to ruin his anonymity by knocking the vase of flowers placed in the middle of the table clear over, thanks to a careless nudge of the notebook he’d brought down with him.

“Ah!” he said, grabbing his notebook and pens and quickly standing. There was a waiter beside him immediately. “I’m so sorry,” Pavel said in a rush. “Really, I am.”

The waiter offered Pavel a polite smile as he mopped at the mess. “It’s no trouble.”

“That will be fine,” Pavel said. “I don’t mind if it’s a little damp.”

“Nonsense,” came a gruff voice from behind, then Doctor McCoy was there by Pavel’s side. “Have another place set at my table, please,” he said to the waiter.

“No,” Pavel said, mortified. “I couldn’t possibly.”

The Doctor raised a brow. “The thought of sharing a meal with me that unbearable? I guess after last night, I couldn’t blame you.”

“That’s not it at all,” Pavel countered. “It’s very generous of you to offer, but you don’t need to be polite. I’ll be quite all right here.”

“I’m not being polite,” Doctor McCoy countered. “I feel like, even with our limited engagement, it should be clear I don’t much do _polite_ . I was planning to invite you to eat with me before you made a mess. I’d _like_ you to eat with me.”

Pavel looked at him, skeptical.

Doctor McCoy sighed. “You don’t believe me. Listen, just sit with me. We don’t have to talk if we don’t want to.”

They didn’t talk.

Pavel sat awkwardly, staring into his plate of scrambled eggs, while Doctor McCoy buttered his toast. It was frustrating for Pavel, whose life work was to give men what they wanted, to be unable to determine just what exactly the Doctor was looking for. He didn’t seem the escort type, though it was admittedly hard to gauge just who was until they had their wallets out and their list of demands at the ready. Still, Doctor McCoy seemed somehow above and beyond paid companionship. He had been married not too long ago, and deeply in love if Admiral Marcus was to be believed. But then again, Pavel supposed grief often had people acting out in strange and unusual ways.

Regardless, he watched the Doctor eat his toast, a slight scowl on his face and his eyes landing everywhere but on Pavel himself, and found himself at a loss. What did the Doctor want him to _do_? Why was Pavel at his table?

“Your name is Pavel, right?” Doctor McCoy finally said.

“Yes. And you are Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy.”

“That’s the full outfit, but most folks just call me Leo or Len. Don't much care which one you choose.”

Pavel found himself smiling. “In my home country we’d call you _Lyov_.”

Leonard offered a small smile back. “Russian, isn't it?”

“It is.”

“So your friends and family back home would more like as not call you _Pasha_?”

Pavel’s smile fell slightly. “Well, to be honest, I have neither. But yes, if I did, that is what I would be called.”

“Shit, kid,” Leonard said, setting down his toast.

Pavel shrugged. “I made peace with that long ago. In some ways it makes my current life easier.”

“My daddy died some years back. I’m sorry for your loss.” He seemed sincere, and Pavel didn’t believe he was pretending.

“And I yours,” Pavel replied, a little thickly. The conversation had taken an unanticipated turn. They sat in silence once more.

“So,” Leonard finally said. “Where’s your _friend_ ?” He said the word like someone else might say _hypospray_.

“He had an early conference call,” Pavel explained. “His absence has provided me a surprise free morning.”

“And what do you plan to do with it?”

Pavel was still considering that very question. “Take a walk, I think. Perhaps get some work done.” He nodded to his notebook.

“Do you sketch?” asked Lenoard.

“Ah, no,” Pavel replied, a little self conscious. “I do math.”

Leonard laughed in surprise. “Excuse me?”

Pavel handed him the notebook. “You may take a look. I don’t mind.”

Leonard opened the notebook, his eyes widening as he took in what he saw. “Jesus Christ.” He looked up at Pavel in disbelief. “This is...incredibly complex. Does Marcus know you can do this?”

Pavel shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve worked on things around him before, but he’s never asked.”

“What a waste,” Leonard said with a low whistle. “How have you not joined Starfleet yet?”

The question broached an arena Pavel staunchly did not want to enter. He shuttered his face as he said, “In another life perhaps.”

Leonard seemed to take the hint. “This life ain’t over,” he muttered, but then he handed the notebook back to Pavel and returned to his breakfast.

“You know,” Pavel said to break the tension. “I am not an artist, but my father was.”

Leonard put down his coffee. “Was he?”

Pavel nodded.

“Was he any good?”

“Of course, I thought so,” Pavel said with a small laugh. “But people didn’t understand him.”

“In my experience, that’s generally the way of it with artists,” Leonard said with a small laugh of his own.

“Thing was, he painted trees. Or at least, he painted _one_ tree.”

Both of Leonard’s brows shot up. “Your father painted one tree over and over again?”

“It is silly, I know. But my father had a theory of sorts, you could say. He believed that if you found one perfect thing, or place, or person you should hang on to it.”

Leonard swallowed. Pavel felt electric under the gaze the Doctor held him under. “I don’t think that’s silly at all,” Leonard said quietly. “On the contrary, it’s a philosophy I try to live by myself.”

Pavel felt positively alive.

“This walk you’re taking,” Leonard said after a moment. “Would you like company? Or does that, I don’t know. Put you in a tight spot with Marcus?”

Pavel fiddled with the silverware. “It depends,” he said slowly. “If you’re asking to buy my time, I would have to politely decline. My services are reserved for the duration of my stay.”

Leonard looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “I am not looking to buy your company.”

Something in Pavel lightened. He smiled. “Then my time is mine to do with what I please.”

“Excellent,” Leonard said. “I’m ready when you are.”


	3. Chapter 3

Being a tourist-laden pleasure planet, it was difficult for Leonard and Pavel to find a path for walking that wasn’t already brimming with other visitors. 

“I hate this damn planet,” Leonard said, the words a growl as he pushed past yet another amorous couple oblivious to anything beyond their partner’s face. 

“Then why visit?” 

“The last year has been...well, shit, it’s been a mess, to tell you the truth. I’ve spent most of it abroad.” He stopped to scowl at an Andorian whose approach to selling flowers was simply to yell as loudly as possible in a variety of languages. “I’d been all over, and the whole time my sister kept pushing me to visit Risa. She’d been with her husband a few years back and swore she’d had the time of her life.”

“Clearly you have a differing opinion,” Pavel said.

“You’re damn right I do,” Leonard replied vehemently. “I came to make her happy, and in the process I made myself ten times more miserable.”

Pavel smiled, but did his best to hide it. It was difficult though, watching Leonard stomp through the beautiful tropical scenery like it existed solely to make him mad. Pavel may not have preferred it himself, but Leonard’s dislike was a corporeal thing, and he made no effort to reign it in. 

“You could leave,” Pavel said. “You are not bound here.”  _ Like I am bound here through the Admiral _ .

Leonard turned to look at Pavel, his face impassive. “I was planning on it,” he said carefully.

“That sounds like there is a ‘but’ coming.”

Leonard laughed. It sounded more like a huff. “Yeah, well. I’m thinking now I might stay a little longer.” 

“Don’t you want to go home?”

Leonard’s expression immediately hardened. His shoulders tensed. “Ain’t got no love lost for Peachtrees. I’m happy to stay away a while longer.”

“Peachtrees?”

“That’s what they call my house. Estate. Mansion. Whatever you want to say. It’s big and it’s old and it’s fancier than is strictly necessary.”

Pavel tried to imagine it in his head. “How old is ‘old’?”

“Technically it’s only a couple centuries, but it’s almost an exact copy of the house that one of my relatives built about five hundred years back, so it feels older than it is.”

“That is...very old indeed.”

“I’ve got a place in San Francisco too, some modern minimal monstrosity that Ji--that my family hates and I love half to death.” Leonard had gone pale at the near-mention of who Pavel could only assume was Leonard’s late husband. So lost he seemed at the momentary slip, that Leonard did not even snarl when a half-naked Deltan stumbled against him

“Could you not live there?” Pavel asked anxiously in the hopes the question would bring Leonard back to the present.

He looked sidelong at Pavel and shrugged. “I could, but it’s awfully close to Starfleet, and I’m taking a break from the Federation. Peachtrees ain’t ideal, but at least it’s not in the Federation’s back pocket.”

An uncomfortable silence descended. Pavel had questions, but he wasn’t sure Leonard would appreciate providing the answers. 

They walked for another half-mile in continued quiet, dodging people as they went, until finally Leonard exclaimed, “Eureka! We’ve got free space.”

They turned down a footpath well-hidden from the main drag by a plethora of trees and shrubs. It was cooler, Pavel noted with pleasure, nestled amongst the greenery, and much more pleasant a walk without all the other tourists. 

After about ten minutes, Pavel and Leonard came across an alcove cut out of a particularly smooth jutting of rock. The altitude they had reached in their walk meant that the ocean was beautifully visible over the tops of the neighboring shrubs.

“Huh,” said Leonard, taking in the view. “This ain’t so bad I guess.” He gestured for Pavel to take a seat on a stone bench built out of the rock, while he stood and watched the waves. Pavel made himself comfortable and then took in the view for himself. It really was spectacular.

“It is not so bad at all,” he agreed, a little wide eyed.

Leonard turned to look at him. “Yesterday you said you thought this place was artificial. Care to expand?”

Pavel didn’t blush, though it was a near thing. The Admiral’s words from the previous night echoed in his head.  _ Trying to enter the conversation got you nothing but embarrassment for all involved parties.  _ He wished Leonard hadn’t brought up his weak attempt at conversation at all.

”I didn’t know what I was talking about,” Pavel said. “It’s like the Admiral says--I am spoiled. He has taken me to see many things and places.”

“Horse shit,” Leonard said with a snort. “Tell me what you meant.”

Pavel’s fingers clenched at the sides of his notebook. He stared down at the cover as he spoke. “You probably will know this already, but Risa was not originally a habitable planet. It’s weather was extreme, it’s landscape inhospitable. No one was meant to live here.”

Leonard nodded. “Yes, I was aware.”

“So you know that essentially someone had to come in and...terraform. The planet was colonized, and technology implemented to make it the pleasure planet it is today. Surely it is beautiful. Surely it is brimming with natural life. But none of this would be here without interference, and there is a deceit in that. It may be lovely, but in many ways it is not...real.” 

Leonard was giving Pavel a look he could not decipher, and Pavel feared he had misspoke. He hated how difficult to read Leonard sometimes proved to be.

“You’ve thought about this a lot, have you?” he asked.

Pavel shrugged. “I have been here two weeks already. There has been much time to think.”

“Even with Marcus expecting your  _ talents  _ at every hour of the day?”

Pavel did not know if the comment was meant to hurt, or simply a frank assessment of his relationship to the Admiral. Either way, it stung, even if only slightly.

“I am very good at multitasking,” Pavel shot back. 

“I’m sorry,” Leonard said after a moment. “I meant no insult.” Then he perched himself on a small boulder. “I think it’s as good a time as any for me to shut up. Let you get down to it.”

Pavel nodded and smiled faintly. He had already forgiven Leonard his slight. He opened his notebook and directed his attention away from the Doctor, who seemed content to sit on his boulder and watch the water. 

Pavel loved math, and always had. It was not hard to get lost in his equations, even with the distraction Leonard provided sitting just a few feet away. The sound of the waves, artificial as they may have been, made for a soothing backdrop, the occasional twitter of some native bird interrupting the quiet. After an hour, Pavel shut his notebook and allowed himself the pleasure of closing his eyes and simply enjoying the warmth from the sun and lull of the water. When he opened his eyes again, Leonard was watching him. He looked away when Pavel caught him. 

“Should we head back?” Leonard asked, his voice a little short.

“One more minute,” answered Pavel. “I just want one more minute.” He placed his notebook beside him on the bench, and then stood to stand by Leonard. He looked skyward. “Have you seen the stars here at night?” he asked Leonard.

“I imagine they look the same as they do elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” Pavel considered. “But they are still beautiful. You mentioned joining Starfleet earlier. It is not a subject I like to talk about, but I will say that joining the Federation was one of my biggest dreams.” He looked down at Leonard. “It is, of course, silly to think about now. I will never join Starfleet. But for a time I could imagine no greater joy than being in space.”

Beside Pavel, Leonard’s face grew agitated. He folded his arms and avoided looking anywhere but the ground. Pavel didn’t know what to say or do. He had thought Leonard would appreciate his openness. 

“I mean,” he began again, awkward. “I know space is a difficult place to operate. At least, that is what I imagine. But to be among the stars must be a magnificent thing, is it not?”

“It’s not all it’s talked up to be,” Leonard bit out.

“Surely there is some pleasure in it? You must have enjoyed some parts of it.”

Leonard scoffed. “Don't pander to me, kid. One tiny crack in the hull, and your blood boils in thirteen seconds. Solar flare might crop up, cook you in your seat. And wait till you're sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles. See if you get any pleasure when your eyeballs are bleeding.” 

He looked up at Pavel, earnest and angry. “Space is nothing but disease and danger wrapped up in darkness and silence, and people die in it  _ everyday _ .” Then he stood from his boulder and headed back for the main path. 

Pavel was shocked. He grabbed his things from the bench and then hurried to catch up with Leonard. He said nothing as they walked back to the hotel, and Leonard said nothing in return. When they arrived at the lobby, Pavel expected Leonard to stalk off without a goodbye; instead the man stopped to face Pavel, and sighed. He took one of Pavel’s hands in his own and held it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And then he turned heel and made his way to the stairs.

That night, lying beside Admiral Marcus, Pavel couldn’t help himself. “I saw Doctor McCoy in the dining room this morning,” he began, doing his best to sound nonchalant. 

“Don’t tell me you spoke to him,” the Admiral replied.

“I didn’t,” Pavel said, and it was difficult to keep the anger out of his voice. “He looked lonely, is all. I think he is still in mourning.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. Of course it is nothing. I was only curious.”

A snort. “Never a good thing.”

Pavel took one of the Admiral’s nipples in his mouth to keep himself from saying something rude. The Admiral gasped, pleased. That was Pavel’s other motivation. 

“I was only curious,” Pavel said again, “What happened to the Doctor’s husband?”

Admiral Marcus seemed only a little perturbed by the question. “It was an accident,” he said. “He was going on a solo away mission when something in his ship malfunctioned. The whole thing exploded.”

Pavel swallowed, his fears confirmed. “So he died in space. Alone.”

“Terrible, really. And such a waste. Jim Kirk was one of those rare men with all kinds of opportunities ahead of them, and he was shaping up to be damn near the best captain I’ve ever known. Not to mention, his death completely ruined Doctor McCoy. If Kirk was the best captain, then McCoy was one of the best medical officers, and now he’s essentially set himself up for early retirement.”

“Because he is so grief-stricken?” asked Pavel, his voice dull.

“He doesn’t talk about Kirk much, but he’s a broken man now. I think that much is clear to just about anyone who meets him.” 

Pavel tried to keep his features schooled so he appeared to be only vaguely interested. But privately he despaired that he had only made things for Leonard McCoy worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hurray for a dredd reference!


End file.
